


hey, mr. sandman

by trevino



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (i just don't want billy to die ok sue me), (probably?), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Drabble, First Kiss, Gen, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:01:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26984071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trevino/pseuds/trevino
Summary: Billy's not dead, not really, because someone's kissing him, and he doesn't really think that's how dying works.(Right? Shit, he never paid attention in biology class, and now it's coming back to bite him.Still, though, he'd like to know who's kissing him, regardless of whether or not he's dying. That seems like pretty pertinent information for a dying- or not-dying- man.)
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 4
Kudos: 94





	hey, mr. sandman

**Author's Note:**

> hi! please enjoy this drabble of words that my brain wouldn't shut up about at 11:37pm, so i wrote them, and now they're here. i hope you like them.  
> this is probably just a cute one-shot, not sure exactly if i wanna go anywhere with it, but it was fun to write and... yea. the title is a spin off of the intro of "in dreams" by roy orbison, which i listened to on repeat for a week straight at the start of the semester oops. 
> 
> as always, i love y'alls comments and feedback <3

Billy Hargrove remembers dying; he felt all brave or some shit, facing the Mind Flayer like that. He hit Max (fuck, sorry about that, kid), and El tried to stop him, and she showed him his mother in a dream, and then he was being grabbed and lifted into the air and it felt like electricity was splitting him apart. 

Somewhere along the way, something else must’ve happened, though, because he thinks he  _ probably  _ would’ve remembered Steve kissing him. 

Because now, he’s alive— not dead, funny how that works out— and Steve’s mouth is on his, and the fucking pack of bratty kids are all screaming, and it feels like someone just took a fucking sledgehammer to every single bone in his body.

And he’s alive.

~

It takes him a bit longer to snap out of it, but when he does, he’s still lying flat on his back in the food court of that god-forsaken mall, covered in weird black sludge and wishing he was asleep. Wishing he was dead, too, but with the look Max is giving him right now, he probably shouldn’t voice that thought out loud.

Steve’s not kissing him anymore, though?

“Yo, Steve?” he chokes out, barely a whisper, and  _ God  _ he sounds like he just inhaled a pack of cigarettes despite not smoking at all today. “Were you, uh, fuckin’ kissing me just now?” It felt like a dream, but dreams aren’t usually this fucking painful, and plus, he probably wouldn’t choose for Dustin and Lucas to appear in his dreams if he can help it. 

He didn’t think it was all that funny, what he said, but suddenly, everyone’s laughing— even Steve, who was perched next to him and gripping his right hand so fucking tight it might break. He’s in enough pain now, enough for a lifetime of beatings from Neil, he really doesn’t need to break any fingers now too. 

(Well, Steve’s laugh sounds like it’s mixed with crying, and now that he thinks about it, Max’s does too.)

Eleven’s there, blood trailing down her nose. Shit, the whole fucking gang’s here, aren’t they?

“Wha- what happened?”

If he thought they were laughing before, well, he’s correct now, because the floor starts to quake with the sound of damn pre-teen giggles— oh, and probably the weird monster-thing too. It’s just lying there, and it looks pretty freaking dead.

Max is the first one to speak, and her voice is shaky. “Billy, you— we thought you were dead!! That  _ thing _ fuckin- freaking grabbed you, and then you collapsed, and you’re all bloody, and then Steve tried to do mouth-to-mouth or CPS or whatever, we didn’t think it worked, but uh…”

“I think you mean CPR, moron, CPS were those fuckers who tried to send me to the state home last year for being a ‘nuisance’ or whatever,” Billy says, and he’s  _ really  _ not enjoying the way his mouth seems to be filling with blood every time he talks. That’s definitely not a cute look.

“And yeah, it worked, I’m alive,” he adds on, mostly for her benefit.

Steve’s, too, since the guy still hasn’t let go of his vice-grip on his hand. 

(He’s starting to like it, though; when he hit the linoleum floor after the monster dropped him, he had felt all cold, and Steve’s hands are warm.

Billy will never say it out loud, of course, but damn; Steve’s got some soft hands.

Maybe he won’t let go yet. That would be nice.)

“It’s gone.” Oh, and there’s El’s voice too; she had been pretty quiet throughout all this. Billy could still feel her poking around in his brain though, all squishy and nosy, and he really didn’t like that.

Lucas chimes in; shit, is the whole fucking brat pack just watching him flop back to life right now? “What do you mean, gone?”

(Actually, the kid’s got a point. What the hell does that mean?)

“Mind Flayer,” El answers simply, as if everything she says is so damn obvious or whatever. “Billy killed it.”

That gets his attention, at least. He was starting to drift there, with all the talking and the relaxing back-and-forth of Steve’s thumb against the top of his hand; he wasn’t sure if the guy even intended to be doing it, but he was all the same.

“Shit, that’s pretty fucking badas-” Billy’s words, boastful as ever, are cut off abruptly by a cough that rakes through his body like a hurricane. Wordlessly, Steve and Max help him get into a sitting position— not like it matters, sitting hurts just as fucking much as lying down, but it’s the thought that counts, right?— and out of nowhere, there’s a bottle of water being shoved into his hands.

“Yeah, we get it, you’re a total movie star, you also destroyed the mall, dingus,” says a voice Billy only kind of recognizes— it’s that girl, Ruby or Rodeo or whatever, the one that works with Steve at the weird-ass ice cream shop that Max always goes to.

“Robin, hey, lay off, the guy nearly died,” Steve chastises.  _ Oh! Robin, yea I wasn’t going to remember that in the slightest _ , Billy thinks, and then stops— is he really having a conversation with himself right now? When there’s a cute guy holding his hand? (Ok, where the  _ fuck _ did that thought come from.)

“Okay, you got it,” the voice says again. Billy takes advantage of the lull in conversation to unscrew the water bottle and drink out of it, but his hands shake. Max helps him, though, and damn, he feels real bad for hitting her now.

“Max, uh, I’m sorry about your face,” he says quietly, after downing over half the bottle. Jeez, he feels like total shit— and not just because he died, or almost died, or whatever.

His step-sister looks at him incredulously ( _ SAT word, baby! Bet Steve would be proud of you for that, _ his brain supplies uselessly) and moves as if she’s going to smack him upside the head, but stills. “It’s okay, Billy. Well, it’s not, and I’m pissed, but also you don’t seem to be possessed or some shi- or whatever, anymore, so in the spirit of things I’m gonna let it go.”

_ In the spirit of things?  _ Jesus, she really was a fucking weird-o.

Billy nods at her in thanks, rubbing at his shoulder with his only free hand (Steve still has a claim to the other one; he’ll chalk it up to fatigue, or pain, or something as the reason for why he’s not pulling his hand away still.). “Shit, these hurt like hell.”

It’s not an overstatement, either. When he looks down, his chest is exposed because his shirt was already only halfway buttoned; and it looks like Max or someone ripped it the rest of the way, probably in their noble quest to revive him or some shit like that (selfishly, he wonders if it was Steve). And, criss-crossing across the bare flesh there are hundreds of little lightning-like veins, only they’re white instead of blue.

Not gonna lie, it’s a kinda badass look for him. Except for how badly they all fucking  _ sting _ , like someone cut each one into his skin with a sewing needle.

“Yeah, but at least it’s dead, right?” Dustin adds, lisping slightly. He’s slurping on his own soda, and Billy wants to be jealous, but he already feels like he’s gonna hurl from only water. He shoots the kid a look that he hopes conveys his irritability, without being diminished by the waves of pain that are already starting to overtake him.

Max can sense it (womanly shit or whatever, right?), he thinks, and from her spot by his left side, she makes a face at Steve on his right. “We should, uh, get him out of here before the cops go. Neil’s home, though?”

Steve’s grip tightens around his fingers slightly, and Billy winces unconsciously at the feeling. Jesus, he’s gonna be feeling this for weeks (the pain, that is— and maybe the sensation of Steve’s hand, too). “Shi- shoot. We can, uh, take him back to my place, my parents aren’t home.” It’s soft, almost unnoticeable, but Billy’s face is close to Steve’s, and he’s pretty certain he can hear Stever mutter “when are they ever” under his breath.

Billy feels bad for him, too, and maybe he’ll say something about it later, but right now he just wants to  _ sleep _ .

Before he knows it, the gang of obnoxious children (and their slightly older non-children friends, like Steve and Robin) are helping get him on his feet, though he feels unsteady with every single baby step. Max is supporting him on one side, and Steve’s got an arm wrapped around him as they make their way to his car.

The rest of the nerds pile into someone else’s car— Robin’s? His own? Well, that last one doesn’t seem too likely, since the Camaro’s certainly seen better days at this point— and he can hear them exchanging words about meeting up at Harrington’s place later, but he’s already starting to drift into sleep as he leans against the passenger side door of Steve’s car.

Steve, who’s working on getting his car unlocked and supporting his wobbly body at the same time, looks at Billy with an uncertain gaze, one he probably wouldn’t understand even if he  _ didn’t _ feel like he was on death’s door right now.

_ Well, no time like the present, huh?  _ Says a voice at the back of his head. He  _ did  _ nearly die, that’s true, so maybe, just maybe, Steve won’t hold him accountable for his actions if he says something really fucking dumb right now. So, he straightens up, as best he can given the circumstances (his left leg is really close to giving out at this point), and opens his big dumb mouth.

“Hey, uh, Steve?” The boy in question perks up at that, straightening his stupid fucking sailor hat and brushing his floppy bangs out of his eyes. 

“What is it, Hargrove?” Steve asks, voice devoid of any real bite; actually, he still sounds pretty fucking concerned, which Billy’s starting to find endearing somehow.

“Wanna kiss me again?”

This time, Billy knows he’s not dreaming when their lips meet. 

(And if he is, he hopes he never wakes up.)


End file.
